The Devil's Only Friend
by Devony V
Summary: Rachel never wanted the family she tried to leave to step back into her life. They only brought her trouble. Then again, having the Winchester name practically put her on the hit list for trouble. She couldn't get away from her old life, no matter how hard she tried.
1. Chapter 1

LAST YEAR

The old radio sat in its usual spot, on the edge of the island, next to the saltshaker and pepper jar, humming a gentle melody. Rachel reached over and turned the dial down, feeling a slight pain in the side of her head. She rubbed her hands together and used her fingers to gently massage the right side of her head. She sighed and continued stirring the small batch of soup that she'd cooked for herself and her boyfriend. Once again, he was working late, so she made another light supper for the two of them.

The tree branches smacked against the window that lead to the fire escape in their small apartment, causing Rachel to flinch. Her hard, blue-green eyes rested on the dark window, glaring the branches that never failed to look like some creature.

The apartment door slammed as well, causing Rachel to gasp and turn sharply in the direction of the front door.

"Calm down, it's me," came the laughing voice of Doug. Rachel scowled at the light-haired man who was setting down his pack and hanging up his jacket.

"Jerk," Rachel muttered. He smiled and came up behind her, kissing her on the cheek.

"How are you today?" he murmured, his head resting on her shoulder. She smiled and leaned her head on his, feeling his fingers trailing through her long, thick brown hair. "Doing well. Just jumpy."

"Jumpy?" he chuckled, his big hands sliding off her waist and reaching around to taste the soup. Rachel shrugged. "I dunno...everything's been driving me nuts lately."

"Maybe this will cheer you up." Rachel turned to Doug's rather snarky smile. He walked back over to his case.

"I don't like that tone. It makes me nervous." Doug laughed at Rachel's deadpanning as he dug around the papers. Rachel leaned slightly to the right, trying to see what he was pulling out. Her eyebrows raised as he held up a contract.

"What is that?" she said quietly.

"I finally made the down payment on that house we've been looking at." Rachel felt the corner of her mouth pull up into a beaming smile, her mood immediately uplifting. "Really?" she squeaked.

"Really! Its ours now, baby." Rachel let out a small shriek of excitement and jumped into Doug's arms, hugging him tightly. "That's- that's great! I'm freaking out right now!"

"New house brings new beginnings." Rachel pulled back and smiled at him as he gently lowered her to the ground.

"New beginnings," she repeated, almost in a questioning tone. Doug smiled again, leaning his forehead against hers. "We'll talk later," he said softly. "For now, let's eat."

Barely an hour later, the two were stretched out on the couch in front of the small TV, letting the television drone on and on, hardly paying attention. Doug's hand was tangled in Rachel's hair, his nose buried in the crook of her neck. She smiled lazily as she felt herself begin to doze.

A firm knocking on the door interrupted the two. Doug stood up and walked toward the door. He took one glance through the peephole, then opened the door cautiously.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Rachel here?"

Rachel sat up urgently, her head turning over her shoulder so fast she thought her neck was going to snap. She knew that voice- that all-too-familiar drawl. She leapt up as Doug continued talking.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I should be asking _you_ that, punk-"

"_Dean_!" Rachel walked quickly, toward the front door, feeling a twinge of anger flare up at the sight of her brother. Dean looked as broad as ever, with his favorite jacket hanging over his shoulders, blonde hair clipped and a smug grin on his still child-like face.

Doug looked at her in surprise. "Dean? Your brother Dean?"

"Yeah," Rachel muttered, crossing her arms after stopping by Doug's side.

Her brother's green eyes rested on her. "What? No hug for your big brother?"

"What do you want?" Rachel asked, unamused.

"You're not even going to invite me in?" Rachel's glare didn't let down as she jerked her head toward the kitchen. Dean threw a careless glance at Doug as he stepped into Rachel's apartment.

"Nice place you got here." Rachel glared over her shoulder, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Dean continued speaking as though he hadn't seen it. "If you don't mind, Dan-"

"It's Doug."

"I'd like to speak with my sister. Alone." Doug glanced at Rachel helplessly, who shrugged. "It's fine." He glanced at Dean again, then turned and walked into their bedroom.

Dean turned back to Rachel, jerking a thumb over his shoulder and making a face. "Who's this freak?"

"My boyfriend, not that it's any of your business." she spat. "What the hell do you want?"

"You're my sister, you are my business. What does he do?"

"He's a firefighter." she said shortly.

Dean snorted. "You couldn't pick a guy with a better name? That's why out of your two big brothers, I get more girls. Name's Dean, and I'm handsome, while Sam's got a damn sissy name-"

"Dean, stay on the subject. How did you find me?"

"Again, you're my sister. I know how you think." Dean wandered over to the refrigerator, his expression never wavering as he looked at the various pictures of the two. "Sammy knew where he was going- that's why he went straight to Stanford, the furthest away he could go without leaving the country. You never gave me a clue, you just took off one night. Made us think you did the same- see, I went to Chicago a few years back, since I knew you'd always wanted to go back there- figured maybe you switched schools- but you just went to freakin' Andover. Not three hours away from Lawrence. Real smart, Ray, real smart."

"Yet it still took you four years to find me," she said coolly. "Guess I can't outsmart you forever. What do you want?"

"Hey, Sam told me like three years ago that you were here. I've been in town before. Asked around." He picked up the saltshaker, twisting it around in his big hands. "Dropped outta Witchita State, eh? Can't believe you and Sammy are twins. He'd be so disappointed. Whatever happened to medical school?"

"Dean, would you answer my question! If I haven't made it clear, I don't want you here." She said, her frustration rising.

"Still a poet." he chuckled.

"Stop being an idiot! If you have nothing useful to say, you're wasting my time and yours. So spit it out or take a hike."

Dean finally faced her dead on. Rachel held her ground, glaring into the eyes of the person she'd once admired more than anything in the world.

"Dad's missing."

"That's not my problem."

Dean raised his eyebrows, almost looking shocked. "Seriously? That's all you have to say?"

"What the hell do you want me to say, Dean? 'Sure, I'll go after my father who doesn't even _want_ me?'"

"Ray, don't say that-"

"I'm not involved anymore. It's not my problem. I have a life, and you are not apart of it. Neither is Dad."

"What about Sam?"

Rachel shrugged. "We can't really shut each other out, can we?"

"Right. That freaky twin-telepathy thing."

Rachel sighed. "You act like it's a good thing."

"Isn't it? You can see where the other is at. What he's feeling. All the time."

"Which makes shutting you all out so much easier," she said sarcastically.

"Look, Dad never came home on the last trip that he went on. It's been a few days and I'm getting worried."

"Did you try his cell?" Rachel asked.

"No, I was waiting for a damn carrier-pigeon." Dean snorted. "Of course I tried his cell! The number's disconnected."

"Sounds like he got sick of you too." Rachel sneered.

"This isn't a game, Rachel. Dad's _missing_."

"Again, it's not my problem." Rachel said shortly.

The siblings glared at each other, not wanting to be there any longer but not wanting the conversation to end. "So you're not even going to worry about the fact that your father could be out there? In trouble?"

"My _father_, I'd break my back for. Not my goddamn drill sergeant, who doesn't give a flying fuck about a kid's life if a demon gets away." Rachel snapped.

"Rachel, you need to let that-"

"Let it go? Let it _go_? You've got to be-don't try to defend him!" She said, pointing at Dean, who shut his mouth quickly. "I almost get killed and he yells at _me_ for letting the son of a bitch get away! Like I don't matter!"

"If you want to be fair about it, half of it was your fault-"

"Oh, shut up! I was seventeen, I didn't know any better."

"You should have! Dad raised us to have sense! You know what's out there, you knew what the risks were!"

"It was _hard_, Dean!" Rachel shouted. "The way Dad raised us, I was never allowed to feel safe or-or _normal_! _Especially_ not around my friends!"

"What? It's not my fault you were awkward!"

Rachel shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories of the years of unbrushed hair, dirty fingernails and walking around nearly a foot taller than other girls at her school in boy's clothes. "That's not what I mean! _Normal_ kids don't learn how to shoot a shotgun at age ten!"

"We aren't normal. Haven't you learned that by now?"

"Doesn't matter. I have my own life and I'm safe."

"You were safe with your family."

Rachel didn't retort. She just glared out the window. Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger. "So I can't count on you to come with me and find him?"

"He's fine. He's too smart to get himself captured. You wanna go find him, fine. But I've got my own life now."

"I can't do this alone, Ray."

"The go ask Sam."

He snorted. "Like Sam's any easier to convince than you!"

"That's because we both have sense. Dad told him to kick it and he did. He didn't need to bother telling any of us."

"You're acting like Dad never gave a shit about you."

"Well, he didn't! All he cared about was killing that son of a bitch! More than his own kids! I was just in the way. You know it, Dad knows it."

"Look, I didn't come here to fight-"

"I know. But I can't help you, Dean. Just don't get yourself killed out there."

"Because you care so much," Dean said sarcastically. Rachel rolled her eyes as her brother stood up straight. "I'll come back and let you know when I find Dad."

"No you won't." Dean turned and frowned. "I'm moving in a few days."

"With Darren?"

"_Doug_ and I bought a house, and we're moving there. And no, I'm not giving you an address."

"Fine. I'll just find you when I want too."

Scowling because she knew he would, Rachel walked past him and yanked the door open, not facing her brother.

"At least promise me this," Dean said, walking up behind her. Rachel sighed and turned to face him. "When you move into your new house, make sure you salt the door. All that voodoo shit. Every night." When Rachel didn't answer, he raised an eyebrow. "Didn't tell little Danny about the family business?"

"Get out, asshole." she snarled.

Dean walked out and help up his phone. "You know where to get ahold of me!"

Rachel slammed the door shut.


	2. Chapter 2

PRESENT DAY

Rachel hummed quietly to herself, walking around her kitchen. The radio was in a similar place that it was back in their old apartment, right next to the saltshaker on the edge of the island. Not much had changed besides their location. The most noticeable change was Rachel's glowing smile- and the plastic ring on her finger.

She cringed just looking at it. She didn't regret accepting Doug's proposal in the least- she was embarrassed to remember her reaction. She'd laughed out loud when he'd given her a plastic ring- then realized what it meant. She'd immediately accepted, having to reassure him that she wanted to marry him and she loved the ring. Bottom line. Even though he couldn't afford the best after buying their dream house, he still tried.

The decent-sized, white house with the blue front door had an impressively large back door, leading all the way back to the woods. It had three bedrooms; their bedroom, a guest and what would be a nursery one day. A spacious living room, a large basement that they were still remodeling, and the kitchen had finally gotten cleaned up from their messy dinner preparation when Doug's mother had visited the day before.

As much as Doug insisted that it wasn't enough, she knew it was for the both of them. The bills got paid, with him being a firefighter and her occasionally fixing cars for their friends (Doug loved that she was a grease monkey, something she knew other men wouldn't appreciate of their girlfriends), so she made a decent amount of money herself; even with not charging the normal amount a mechanic would.

She jumped at the sound of scratching at the door. Wiping her hands on her towel, she walked over to the front door and opened it. An Old Time Farm Shepard leapt in at her, barking excitedly. She smiled and leaned down to scratch her ears. "Hi Bella!" The puppy licked at her face excitedly and skittered ahead of her when Rachel stood back up to walk to the kitchen.

"I'm home!" Rachel turned and smiled as Doug walked into the kitchen, setting down a large binder. "This is from my mom- it's this whole thing of wedding stuff that she used back in the day. I wasn't sure if you'd want to, but she insisted-"

"It's no problem," she said softly, twisting the ring around her finger and staring into space. Doug noticed and frowned. "Rache?"

Rachel shrugged. "Just thinking."

Doug nodded and played with the fringe of the binder. "Invitations?"

Rachel wanted to tell Doug about the random spurts of panic that she'd get in the middle of the night. She knew exactly what it was- somewhere out there- Sam was in danger, or his emotions were nearly out of control to the point where she could feel it.

The random panics in the middle of the night meant only one thing- Dean and Sam were hunting. Fear was a strong emotion, and no matter where Sam was, Rachel could feel his fears, his hurt, and his anger if it was strong enough. At eight years old, while she and Sam played outside as kids, Dean had briefly become distracted watching them. Sam had fallen from the tree and broken his arms in two places, and Rachel immediately felt the flare of pain up her entire arms and screamed jut as loudly as her brother, nearly falling out of the tree herself. When Sam had gotten injured for the first time playing Little League Soccer, she'd stayed on the couch with him, feeling pain in her right leg as well. With all the emotional turmoil Rachel felt in high school, Sam saw past her stony-faced facade and made a point to set aside his studies and spend time with her if she was feeling down.

She felt it strongly one night not long after Dean had showed up at her front door- Sam had been in despair. What had happened, she wasn't sure; her dreams hadn't allowed her to see what he was seeing for some reason. She just knew that he was in pain. She'd been itching to call and ask what was wrong, but she knew that talking to Sam would result in talking to Dean, and she didn't want that.

The second time it had happened, all she'd heard was a bullet, and her brother's screaming. That night, the force had been so strong she'd actually woken up crying. She knew that he hadn't died, nor had Dean; otherwise, she'd be able to tell by Sam's emotions. He was stable, and that was good enough for her. And as far as she could tell, they still hadn't found their father.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'd just like to be on good terms with my father. And it would have been nice to have my mom to help me with this."

Doug nodded, looking at her hands. He wrapped his big hands around hers and leaned into her side slightly. Rachel smiled and leaned her head against his.

"Wanna just order in tonight?" he said quietly.

Rachel nodded. "Yeah...I was wasting my time in here anyway."

"I'll make a call to Cesario's and go take a shower." He pressed a kiss to her cheek and left the kitchen. Rachel listened to his heavy footsteps as he walked up the stairs.

She hadn't heard from Dean or Sam since the day Dean had walked into her old apartment. Despite the fact that she and Sam rarely spoke due to their busy lives and psychic connection, he'd called at least once every few months to check in. She'd only mentioned Doug to him at least once- and Sam had mentioned Jess. Rachel couldn't help but chuckle. Of course they had both been studying hard in school (before Rachel had dropped out) and both had significant others. They'd both agreed to meet up after graduating and had promised not to mention it to Dean- and especially not their father. Seeing Dean meant seeing John Winchester- and neither wanted that. She was sick of Dean's smartass attitude anyway; and Sam hadn't spoken to Dean for at least two years- Rachel not at all.

"_Didn't tell little Danny about the family business?"_

Screw him, she thought. What did Dean know? He didn't know normal- it wasn't what he wanted. He _loved_ being John Winchester's deputy. He _loved_ killing demons- though he thought of it as 'saving people.' He loved the killing more than the saving, Rachel was sure of it. Dean was a spitfire version of their father in his quest to avenge Mary's death. And so had Rachel been- until she realized how it was affecting her person. Sure, she acted like she never gave a shit about fitting in at school- but Sam managed to do it so easily by high school, when he'd hit his growth spurt and nobody messed with him. He fit in. He found his calling, his people- something Rachel had never been able to do. If Sam wasn't in her lunch period at school, she'd eat outside, alone. Nobody wanted to hang out with the freaky girl who dressed in boy's clothes and looked like she'd never seen a brush in her life.

She supposed that people never connected the dots that she and Sam were related, or at least ignored it. How could they? They both had dark hair, blue-green eyes, a permanently stoic expression on their faces, and they were built the same- long and lanky. Sam was a genius, a Mathlete, and a soccer player before high school. He'd dropped sports and started studying like a maniac- just to get out of that life. Rachel never tried- she excelled in all subjects, but accepted the occasional less-than-satisfying grade whereas Sam freaked out if he got anywhere close to a B. She wanted to play sports, but their constant moving repressed that until their senior year in Missouri, where they graduated from Joplin High School. After a heated argument that ended with John basically disowning Sam, her brother left and went straight to California.

Rachel knew that Sam had been extremely resentful at the time, knowing that Rachel had gotten John's blessing to go to college when they started high school; he wanted her away from that life, he wanted his little girl to go to school and become a doctor- but no, not Sam. He had to man up, like Dean, and continue hunting until they found the thing that killed Mary.

"_And what after that, Dad? We stop? Or do we keep living this life? This is HELL, Dad!"_

"_You don't know hell, Rachel."_

Rachel was sure that Sam would never speak to her again until he called her one day- he wanted to know where she was and if she was okay. Dean had called him and told him about their falling-out, the incident that summer, and her furious, high-tempered argument with John that lead to the second child- his only daughter- slamming the door shut, leaving them without a clue as to where she was headed. Dean had wanted to know where she was- but he knew better than to call her.

As far as she knew, Sam and Dean kept in contact for a little while- about the same amount she and Sam had. She supposed that Dean was expecting her to have forgotten about the argument when he'd visited last year. He clearly hadn't remembered how long Rachel Mary Winchester can hold a grudge.

John had made Rachel promise to bring weaponry and defense mechanisms with her to college after she left- but even after he revoked his permission after the incident, and she'd left- she'd still taken them. They were locked in a briefcase that she'd managed to keep hidden from Doug since they'd first moved in together. He had no idea about the existence of the briefcase on top of the linen closet that held

But what if he found it? What would he think? He couldn't possibly react like the kids at school had- Rachel Winchester, the freak who regularly carried a knife on her person, the crazy who once beat up a bully with astounding hand-to-hand combat that got her expelled from middle school...would Doug think that way?

_No. Of course not. He loves you._

But he doesn't _know_ me.

What if her family showed up again? Dean was a close call- but what if conversation about her home life came up and she stuttered? As far as Doug knew, her mother died in a fire that destroyed her home when she was a baby- she, her brothers and father had barely gotten out; her father, a former Marine, a mechanic, was never around in her childhood and constantly moved them around for business; her brother Dean had practically raised her due to this, but his wayward path into adulthood had caused her adherence to him to waver; her twin brother Sam was a law student, and though they'd been close as can be as children, his work and adult life took up most of his time now and now they rarely talked.

It was close enough to the truth. She'd simply left out everything about the family business of hunting demons and monsters.

Rachel was going to marry Doug...didn't he at least deserve the truth about what she'd grown up doing? How she could recite exorcisms without blinking, how she knew how to change up a shotgun like a Marine, how she'd seen things that would give people nightmares...What would she tell their children about the family they never see? What she'd spent her childhood doing?

"I need to tell him," she said aloud. No more leading him on. She wasn't Rachel Winchester, former pre-med student at Witchita State and kind valley girl. She was Rachel Winchester, of the demon-hunting Winchesters, who'd been socially awkward around normal people as a teenager due to being a formidable badass raised by men.

The shower hadn't started running yet, nor had she heard Doug's voice echoing throughout the house on the phone with the local pizza parlor. She decided to give herself some time to figure out what to say.

"'Doug...I hunt monsters. Well, I mean, I _used_ to...something my dad taught me...family trade...'" she muttered to herself, contemplating her own words. "'Doug, honey...you know how I don't get scared of horror movies? There's a reason for that...' no, _no_..." she sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "'Doug, I love you so, _so_ much...but there are some things I haven't told you'- no, that sounds bad...'there are some things you should know about me-'"

Rachel felt her knees suddenly become weak and she grabbed the door handle that lead to the basement. Nausea came over her with the force of a tidal wave. She clamped a hand to her mouth, expecting bile to come up, but when she removed her hand, she only saw her own breath expel from her mouth.

_No._

Her head snapped up as the lights started flickering. Ignoring the chills penetrating her bones, she tore off for the stairs. She rounded the corner, her socks on the wood floor causing her to lose her footing. She grabbed the coatrack, trying to regain her balance, but only succeeded in bringing it down with her. She hit the ground, landing on her side and elbow painfully. Roused by Bella's barking, she leapt up just as fast as she had fallen, tearing up the stairs two at the time, her puppy at her heels.

She grabbed the railing and swung around it at the maximum force and tore off to her bedroom. The dizzyness became even more prominent, and it seemed to strike her like a rock to the head when she threw the door to her bedroom open.

The first thing she saw was the figure standing in the middle of her bedroom. Barely half a second after she'd thrown the door open, the thing turned. Rachel's stomach turned.

"_You_," she snarled, glaring into the yellow eyes of the thing that her father had been searching for.

The thing that had killed her mother.

Her eyes shot to whatever it was pointing at, and felt her heart drop. Doug was pressed against the wall by some invisible force, slowly inching up. His mouth was open in a silent but pained scream. With every inch he slid up the wall, Rachel saw more and more blood staining his shirt.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Rachel screamed at the being, stepping toward him threateningly and swinging her arm.

The demon shot her a bone chilling leer, his yellow eyes flashing, and suddenly turned and fled. Just disappeared into thin air.

"Doug!" her fiancee dropped from the wall, hitting the bed and crying out in pain, having found his voice again. She immediately ran to the bed and carefully pushed him over. She let out a shuddering gasp when she saw the amount of blood that stained his shirt and the bedsheets. He gasped, his hand shaking too hard to touch the fabric.

"Don't!" She grabbed the front of his shirt and tore it from his body. She gaped at the massive gash in his navel, then pressed the shirt to it, causing him to cry out.

"Doug, honey, you have to-"

"What's going on?" a voice boomed

Rachel looked at Doug with wide, frightened eyes. "Did you leave the front door unlocked?"

Doug just stared, his mouth opening just slightly. Rachel jumped at the sound of footsteps bounding up the stairs amongst Bella's barking. She took her hands away from Doug's stomach and glanced around, panicking. Who the hell was that coming upstairs? She didn't have a weapon-she didn't-

She looked out the door and saw Jack Tobin, the husband of the president of the Homeowner's Association, walking toward them.

"My wife sent me up here to see what's going o- _what's going on_?" he shouted, his eyes locked onto Rachel's blood-covered hands, staining the sleeves of her blue turtleneck.

"_Cristo_!" Rachel bellowed, causing Jack to stop dead in the middle of the room.

"_What_?" he asked incredulously. She shook her head and gestured to him. "Never mind, never mind-just help!" She grabbed Jack's wrist and pushed it onto Doug's wound. "Just keep pressure on it, I'm going to get-"

"What happened?" Jack repeated, staring at Doug's bloody and trembling body. Rachel dropped to her knees and groped under the bed for the first aid kit. She pulled it out and set it near Doug's head. She yanked it open and grabbed an already prepared needle and broke it off with the scissors. She swiftly tied the loose end and rubbed the needle with alcohol before lifting Doug's shirt to reveal the wound. She ignored Jack's obvious gagging before plunging the needle into Doug's navel near the opening of the wound.

"GOD D-" Doug roared. Rachel pulled the needle through and quickly handed it to Jack. "I need you to finish this. Doug-" she grabbed medical cloth from the inside, rolled it up, and motioned it near his mouth. "Bite down on this, it's going to hurt like a bitch."

"Rachel, I'm a contractor. I don't have nimble fingers! Let's just take him to the hospital!"

"Just...just hold on," she said quickly. Jack turned back to Doug as Rachel turned and ran back to her linen closet. Her briefcase sat on the very top shelf. She pulled it down and dragged it back to her room.

Jack glanced back and forth toward Doug's wound and Rachel fiddling with the suitcase as he prepared stitching up his friend's stomach, trembling. He stopped his actions completely when Rachel yanked open the suitcase to reveal several different types of guns and other weaponry, including a bow and arrow set. "Wh-wha-?"

Rachel looked at him. "Jack, focus!" He shut his mouth and continued, Doug groaning groggily and lifting his head to see where Rachel was.

Rachel pulled out her Winchester model 1866 Yellowboy, her alien claw, and a small jug full of water. She set the items upon her dresser and yanked off her necklace, opening the jug.

She began muttering in rampant Latin, holding the rosary above the water, her entire hand shaking uncontrollable while Doug and Jack watched in stunned silence. She dropped the rosary into the water, screwing the lid shut again as the rosary sinks to the bottom of the jug. She then grabbed a suitcase and began shoving random clothes of hers and Doug's into it.

"Wh-what did you just-"

"Doug, sweetie, just calm down and let Jack work- Jack?"

Jack had backed off completely, leaving Doug's wound only half-done. "What the hell is this, Rachel?"

Rachel leapt up, running to Doug and taking up the stitching. "Goddamnit, Jack, if you aren't going to help here, go to the basement, grab the big bag of salt and start laying the salt across every inch of this room. Up against every wall. The house is too big."

"I'm not going into your dang basement, woman!"

"FINE." She aimed a kick at her briefcase. "Use this then! Salt the room, now!"

"But-"

"NOW! Am I speaking Russian, Jack?"

Jack grabbed Rachel's emergency salt and dumped some of it near the window. Rachel snapped at him about making it a straight line across, and he quickly fixed his mistake. Rachel turned her attention back to the stitching, working swiftly and carefully to give Doug as little pain as possible.

She couldn't believe that creature had the nerve to break into her house. Most demons feared the Winchester name- once they knew they were being hunted by a Winchester, they knew they were screwed. Ever since her mothers death, her father was a raging monster of danger.

But..._why_ had it left without attacking her? She had run in, unarmed- _why_ had it waited? Why hadn't it killed her? It had just taken off at the sight of her. It wasn't an ordinary demon who trembled at a Winchester- it was _the_ demon, the one who not only tormented her mother in her final moments, but killed her and put itself on John Winchester's hit list.

Rachel was unarmed and vulnerable for the first time in her life. She'd looked into the face of the demon that killed her mother and sent her life to shit, and she was still alive.

How?

"Done." Rachel turned to see Jack standing by the door, trembling, saltbag still in hand. Rachel nodded, finishing up Doug's stitches, and jerked her head toward the room across the hall. "In my study- grab the bottle underneath the- second drawer down." Jack left as she tied up the string with gentle hands, cut the wire, and removed the cloth from Doug's mouth, gently swiping at his sweaty head. He groaned, and she leaned forward and gently kissed his light brown hair.

"How are you doing?" Doug's eyes remained closed as he grimaced. "Hurt like a bitch."

"Told ya." He opened his eyes.

"Rachel-"

"Look, I promise, I'll explain everything." she said as Jack returned, holding out the bottle.

"Thanks." She uncorked it and handed Doug the cloth back. "You'll need this." she said before unceremoniously dumping it on Doug's wound.

He screamed into the cloth and Rachel quickly cleaned him up. "Gauze." Jack fumbled around in the first aid kit box while Rachel finished cleaning Doug up. He handed her the gauze, but she shook her head. "You can at least do this, right?" Ignoring his answer, she stood up and pushed Jack toward the bed and finished shoving the clothes into the bag.

Rachel yanked the weaponry belt out of the bag and quickly attached it to her waist. She grabbed her colt and attached it to her right side, and attached her alien claw to the other side. She grabbed the jug of holy water, double checked that it was sealed, and attached it to an unused loop in the back. She grabbed her leather jacked and threw it on, successfully covering the weapons.

"What's that sound?" Jack's voice broke Rachel out of her movements. She jerked her head up, heart pounding. "We need to go. Now. Jack, help Doug." She grabbed the bag and her briefcase, swinging the bag over her shoulder. Jack helped Doug sit up and carefully slid him off of the bed. Rachel pulled her Yellow Boy out of its socket and rested it on her shoulder, pointing it directly in front of her.

"Follow me," she ordered. She jumped at the sound of scratching at the door, but relaxed when she heard barking. She kicked the door open and Bella bolted around the door, jumping up at her.

"C'mon!" Rachel walked swiftly through the house, Jack carrying Doug as fast as he could, Doug grunting in pain with every step. They made way down the stairs and passed the coatrack splayed across the floor. Rachel bent and grabbed Doug's jacket. She shook it and sighed in relief, hearing his keys jingle in it. "We're good. Let's go-"

A strong wind suddenly burst out of nowhere in the house. Rachel grabbed the door handle and gripped it tightly to stay on her feet. She yanked the door open, jumping at the whining noise as Bella slid to the end of the living room, unable to find traction on the wooden floors.

"Jack! Help Doug!" Jack pulled Doug through the door and the two men fell through. Rachel let go and let herself slide to the end of the living room. She hit the wall and pulled her puppy into her arms, struggling to get up.

She bent and grabbed the wall, trying to find something to grab to pull herself out of the house. She cursed, grabbing nothing and struggled to stand up. She grabbed the windowsill and pushed upward; it wouldn't go.

Still pushing against the roaring gale, she grabbed her Yellowboy, which had flown out of her grasp. She slammed it against the glass and it shattered; she kept smashing until most of the glass was gone. She grabbed Bella and threw herself out of the window, balancing herself to hit the ground with her boots. She hear the crunching of the glass when she landed on her feet, but the weight of the bag threw her balance off, causing her to slip and throw an arm out to restore balance. She hit the ground, crying out in pain when she felt the glass penetrate her arm through her thin sleeve.

She pushed herself back into a standing position. Still clutching Bella in her arms, she ran around the corner and set the dog down to see Jack helping Doug out of the garage.

"Get him to the truck!" She shouted. Jack tried to respond but a loud crashing noise caused Rachel to go nearly deaf; the inside of her house was collapsing. The walls were shrinking in like an invisible force was pulling it into the ground.

"Screw this!" Jack shouted, tearing away from the house and bolting down the street.

"JACK!" she yelled, watching his figure disappear into the night. Scowling in disgust, Rachel put her gun back down to grab Doug's other side; he'd fallen to the ground. She urged Doug to move faster toward the truck. He walked as fast as he could on shaking finally reached it, and she groped for the door handle.

"BELLA!" she shrieked. The dog howled and bounded toward the truck, leaping into the door over Doug's legs and into Rachel's seat. Rachel quickly fastened the seatbelt over Doug and shut the door just as an explosion threw her across the hood of the car.

She pulled herself up, staring at her house. The entirety of it was now up in flames. She grabbed the handle and threw herself into the truck. She started it and slammed on the gas. The vehicle threw itself into motion. It tore down the road, away from the collapsed, burning mess of what Rachel's life once was.


End file.
